


Happy nondenominational festive holiday office party, Jean Prouvaire

by MostGeckcellent



Series: Bright Futures Time Travel Agency [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Emotional Constipation, If You Squint - Freeform, Jehan being a sweetheart, Minor Cosette Fauchelevant/Éponine Thénardier, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Mistletoe, Montparnasse being an idiot, Office Party, Other, many of the Amis are mentioned, secret snowflake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostGeckcellent/pseuds/MostGeckcellent
Summary: Bright Futures Time Travel Agency is a longstanding establishment with a shining reputation. Its agents are skilled and efficient, and the missions it undertakes are dangerous, daring, and world-saving.This isn't about that.Bright Futures would be nothing without its hardworking office staff, after all. And they might not be jumping through time and saving the day, but they get up to adventures all their own.In this instalment, an office party is had, pot brownies are consumed, gifts are exchanged, and mistletoe exists. Will Montparnasse make it through this? Or will he perish at the hands (and pretty eyes) of Jean Prouvaire?
Relationships: Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Series: Bright Futures Time Travel Agency [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056437
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Happy nondenominational festive holiday office party, Jean Prouvaire

“You have to draw a name!” Jehan is holding out a silk top hat, filled with little folded pieces of paper, and shaking it in the face of one of the most illustrious time agents at Bright Futures. 

“A name,” Montparnasse says flatly, unimpressed. 

“Now, I know you’re familiar with the idea of a secret snowflake,” Jehan shakes the hat again. 

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Montparnasse crosses his arms over his chest, and Jehan pouts. 

“It’s for the nondenominational holiday office party!” he insists. 

“Oh, well in that case,” Montparnasse rolls his eyes, and starts to walk away. 

“You’re going to the party!” Jehan calls after him. 

“I’m not,” Montparnasse calls back, and is gone. 

Jehan grins after him. A challenge has been issued. 

  
  


It starts with the secret snowflake. A folded piece of paper is taped to Montparnasse’s monitor when he returns to his desk. It’s late, and there’s only a few other people in the building. There’s no one in the room at that moment, at any rate, so Montparnasse shakes his head, but allows himself to smile slightly. Still, he can’t give in too easily, so he plucks it from the screen, crumples it in his hand, and, on his way out the door for the night, deposits it on Jehan’s own desk instead. 

The next morning, Montparnasse logs into his email to find he’s been signed up for the holiday party potluck, and he has apparently committed to bringing a dessert. The email thanks him for his participation, and includes a list of food sensitivities to be aware of, and instructions to list the ingredients on the name card for his dish when he brings it. He groans aloud, and glares at an intern who looks over at the commotion. Her eyes widen and she scurries off, and Montparnasse feels just a little bit better. Maybe he’ll make brownies - Jehan might appreciate his secret ingredient. 

Montparnasse has a meeting with Grantaire, from research. They’re discussing the file that’s been put together for an upcoming mission. Eponine is there, too, when he arrives, and they’re whispering with each other, stopping the instant Montparnasse walks into the meeting room. 

He crosses his arms. “Oh, no, don’t stop on my account.” 

They have the manners to look somewhat sheepish. “It’s nothing,” Eponine is the first to respond. “Just going over some details.” 

Montparnasse knows that Eponine is probably telling some kind of truth; she’s tricky like that. He just doubts they were discussing details about his mission. 

“Well, let’s get on with it, then,” he says anyway, and sits at the table, grabbing the file as he goes. 

The meeting goes smoothly, but halfway through the file, Montparnasse finds his crumpled secret snowflake name, smoothed out and tucked between the page on formal Russian dance styles from the 1880s and the page on courtesan fashion from the same decade. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Grantaire frowns, and reaches for it. “I didn’t put that in there. Did you-?” He looks at Eponine, and Montparnasse snatches the paper as she shakes her head no. 

“That’s - none of your business,” he scowls. “Just a little disagreement Prouvaire and I are having.” 

“About a slip of paper..?” Eponine raises an eyebrow, but Grantaire just smirks at him.

“Oh, so that’s your secret snowflake, is it?” he asks, and Montparnasse crumples it again and stuffs it in his pocket. 

“I’m not participating,” he insists. 

“Mhm.. Yes, you’ll definitely be saying no to Jehan this time,” Grantaire agrees. “You show them you mean business.” 

Grantaire is teasing him, and Montparnasse scowls harder. “Fuck off,” he says, returning to his file. “I’ll need to submit the costuming request..” 

The meeting finishes up, and Montparnasse stalks over to Jehan’s reception desk. “I don’t know how you did this,” he waves the crumpled paper at them. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jehan says, all innocent, with those pretty blue-grey eyes and that bewitching smile. Montparnasse doesn’t believe them for a moment - they’re devious, he knows this. 

Montparnasse looks Jehan in the eye. He’s going to inform them, once and for all, that he’s not doing this. 

Looking them in the eye, of course, is a mistake, because Jehan has some sort of sorcery about them that makes Montparnasse terrible at standing his ground. He groans, and just barely manages not to run his hands through his perfectly styled hair in frustration. 

“If I’m going to your stupid Christmas party-” 

“It’s a nondenominational festive holiday party,” Jehan reminds him. 

“Whatever, if I’m going to this thing, then you’re going with me,” Montparnasse says. 

“Obviously I’m going,” Jehan looks affronted. 

“I mean -” God, this is a stupid idea. “- with me. As.. a date.” There’s no way Jehan will be his date, that they’d sooner just let Montparnasse out of this obligation. This is the final trump card to get him out of this stupid party. 

Of course, Jehan is none so cooperative. Instead, they light up like a goddamn Yule bush. “Oh! Well, of course. I’ll send you photos of the outfit I have planned. Oh! What’s your status on an ugly sweater, because we have to win the competition, you know.” 

Well, fuck. 

  
  


“People are staring,” Montparnasse mutters. He’s not turning pink, he’s above such things, but well, if he was, who could blame him? He’s wearing the most hideous sweater, he doesn’t know how he let Jehan talk him into this. Not just that, but there’s _glitter_ , and yes, okay, it does do wonders for his cheekbones, but glitter isn’t exactly his thing. 

Jehan themself is wearing a bright red poncho, decorated with tinsel and fairy lights and snowmen made from cotton swabs, and it’s all disgustingly cheery and homemade. Beneath that, they’re dressed as an elf of some sort, with striped leggings and a green skirt trimmed with lace, and pointy shoes with bells - real, actual bells, which make noise with every step Jehan takes. 

Needless to say, they win the ugly sweater competition. 

Montparnasse gets his revenge, of course, by sweeping the room at dreidel. He insists he didn’t cheat, but he does have the most chocolate gelt at the end of the game. He generously shares it with Jehan. It’s too much chocolate to eat by himself, anyway. Montparnasse’s brownies from the potluck turn out to be quite the success; Cosette asks for his recipe with a coy smile that leaves him unsure if she’s as sweet and innocent as she appears, or if maybe she’s as devious as Jehan. Jehan themself has to be stopped from eating too many. 

“You’ll make yourself sick, darling, have some water.” 

“But they’re nice,” Jehan frowns, and Montparnasse doesn’t find this delightful, they don’t. “You’re nice.” 

“I’m really not.” 

“Well, no, but -”   
“Water.” Montparnasse pushes the glass into Jehan’s hand, and they drink it, waxing poetic about Keats, or something, all the while. 

They open gifts. Grantaire receives a set of paint pigments from 1300s France from Enjolras, and stares at them, gobsmacked, as Enjolras explains he’d seen them in a marketplace on a mission and picked them up, in case R would find them interesting. Enjolras feigns at being casual, and Grantaire stammers through a thank-you, and Montparnasse mutters that they’re sickening. Jehan smacks him in the side for it, snacking from a bowl of chips as they work through the post-brownie munchies. 

Grantaire goes on to pass a journal of some sort to Jehan, who looks delighted, and Grantaire looks mortified but pleased. Montparnasse steals a glimpse of a hand-drawn illustration, and he thinks the poem it goes with is familiar, something he’s seen on Jehan’s work monitor when they don’t bother pretending to be doing real work. 

It’s Jehan’s turn, then, and they present Montparnasse himself with a lumpy, oddly-wrapped package. Montparnasse picks it open cautiously; inside, is a scarf, obviously hand-made, probably knitted by Jehan themself. It’s soft, is the first thing Montparnasse notices, and the colours aren’t as garish as he’d expected. Jehan looks almost anxious, so Montparnasse smiles, just at them, and glares around the rest of the room as he wraps the scarf neatly around his neck, daring them to say anything about Jehan’s gift. 

It’s his turn, and he passes his own gift of some fancy bath oils to Musichetta, a handler he actually respects, though he still prefers to work with Eponine, and the gift giving continues. Musichetta gifts Bahorel some knitting needles. Bahorel gifts Eponine a new swiss army knife, and she goes on to gift Cosette a stuffed animal, clearly used. Montparnasse knows there’s something of a history there, and this must be related, because Cosette gets teary, and not from offence at being gifted something _used_. Cosette presses her gift into Enjolras’ hands, only to disappear with Eponine. They’re not seen again for the rest of the party, which seems to distress Marius greatly, and the gifts continue on without much of Montparnasse’s attention. He’s gotten and given his already, after all. He doesn’t worry or wonder about what’s going on with Eponine and Cosette. It’s none of his business. He touches his scarf, and pretends not to notice when it makes Jehan smile. He doesn’t take it off for the rest of the night. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

Fucking mistletoe. If looks could kill, the plant would have shrivelled up and died on the spot the instant this all started. And poor Jehan, they look more upset than Montparnasse would have expected. He’d have thought Jehan wouldn’t mind kissing someone if the mistletoe dictated it, he’d have thought Jehan would love it, but instead they look distraught. Montparnasse’s glare turns sharper, as he turns it on their chanting audience. 

“Is kissing me really so horrible, Montparnasse?” Jehan asks, a strange look on their face, one Montparnasse can’t decipher. 

“What?” He whirls around, glare melting away. He can’t be mad at Jehan, especially not when they look like that. 

“You don’t have to, of course..” Jehan is unreadable, and Montparnasse is usually very good at reading people. 

He shakes his head, and places a hand on Jehan’s cheek, pulling them into the briefest, the softest of kisses. It lasts only a moment, an impossible moment, and then he pulls back. “Not so horrible at all,” he says after a moment, and the chanting has turned to cheering. He flips everyone else off. 

Jehan smiles. 

“Happy nondenominational festive holiday office party, Jean Prouvaire.”

  
  



End file.
